


If Only...

by darkhavens



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Fix-It, Freddie Lounds gets killed off-screen, M/M, Mizumono AU, Murder Family, Murder Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkhavens/pseuds/darkhavens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Will kept talking after "They know." </p>
<p>What if Hannibal listened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only...

"They know."

Hannibal doesn't say a word and Will is suddenly more afraid than he's ever been before in his life.

"Hannibal, don't hang up! Jack's on his way to you right now and he's completely crossed the line; you need to go. They've issued a warrant for my arrest for acting as accessory to entrapment, and for the murder of Randall Tier, and they're going to arrest Jack too, but that gives you at least a couple of hours to get clear. Run. Please. I'll come find you, I promise, but you have to go _now_ , or we'll both lose everything. _Please._ "

Will can hear Hannibal moving about his house, but it's an age before he speaks.

"You lied to me about Miss Lounds, Will. Why should I believe you now?"

"You know about-?" Will shakes his head at himself. "Of course you do. If you need me to promise I'll make it right before I come find you, I will. But please, _please_ , you need to go _now_. Jack's out for blood, and I _can't_ lose you too..."

There's the slightest hiss of indrawn breath from the other end of the phone, and then Will hears Hannibal swallow.

"We're your family, Will. Don't keep us waiting too long."

#

"We're your family, Will," plays on a loop in Will's head as he races to Hannibal's house to make sure he -they? No, he- managed to get away safely. His car is gone, and Jack's dark sedan is parked in its place. The front door is open, but no light spills out, and a little of the tension in Will's shoulders slowly drains away.

He has the passport Hannibal acquired for him, in a name he figures he'll have to get used to now it's going to be his for real. He has the bank card Hannibal set up in that name, and a general idea of where Hannibal will be waiting for him. But first, he has a promise to keep, a falsehood to rectify.

#

He sits a couple of pews back from the altar in the Norman Chapel at Palermo and gazes around at the foyer of Hannibal's memory palace before leaning back and closing his eyes, content to wait. He's there every afternoon for three days before someone sits down next to him and murmurs, "Were you looking for me?"

Will's hand is reaching out to touch before he dares open his eyes. Too many hallucinations; too much hope.

"A-Abigail?"

Her eyes, when he finally opens his own and turns to look at her, are glistening with tears, but she looks radiant and happy, healthier than he's ever seen her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't know what else to do. So I did what he told me."

"It's okay. You're alive. I forgive you."

Will twists to hug her close and, over her shoulder, catches sight of Hannibal standing in the aisle. He holds out a hand, around the wrist of which is wrapped a fiery red braid, and beckons him closer.

"I forgive you both. Can you forgive me?"

Hannibal takes the outstretched hand, cradles it for a moment between both of his own, and then lifts it to his mouth and presses a lingering kiss to the back. Will doesn't miss the way he subtly scents the braid before straightening up and smiling, deeply satisfied.

"It's water under the bridge, Will, you're family, after all. Now come, let us introduce you to your new home. I think you'll like it; there's plenty of room in the back yard for a couple of dogs."

Will briefly closes his eyes and cements the moment into the latest room of his newly constructed memory palace. It's a beautiful Norman chapel, severe and timeless, with a graven skull set into the floor as a reminder of mortality. He's sure Hannibal would approve his accommodations.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt at dreamwidth's fic_promptly comm:  
> [Any, Any, "Were you looking for me?"](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/416196.html?thread=13374148#cmt13374148)


End file.
